Clandestine
by jae-vous
Summary: The duo are familiar with what it is to be covert, but their facade will fail one by one; Because they can't hide forever from their team.
1. Chapter 1

A short piece that will shift perspective with each chapter.

Just something to get me back into the writing state of mind.

_**jae**_

* * *

It's too windy, too cold, and too early to be battling the bane of mother nature; and it's only the beginning of the week.

He's also ten minutes too late by the time he swings his car into the divided checkpoint of the Navy Yard, and has to tear apart his car to find his badge to flash at the impatient security guard. Once confirmed as Timothy McGee, the gate opens and he drives on through. He passes the first section of parking where Tony and Gibbs prefer to park, noting with satisfaction that he had at least beat the Senior Field Agent to the Navy Yard. He directs his car further along to near the end of the eastern lot, where Ziva and himself prefer to park. It's a longer walk in the morning, but they can take the back stairwell exit for a shorter walk at night.

McGee steers his car into his usual spot, frowning to himself as he notes Ziva's still vacant space beside him. He spares a brief thought to why the usually punctual ex-Mossad Officer was running late herself, before gathering up the case files he had taken home over the weekend. He stacks them on top of the coffees he'd picked up as a peace offering for his tardiness, and awkwardly maneuvers himself from out of the vehicle.

He winces as the icy breeze bites at the exposed skin that's not covered by his jacket, and he prays to every deity he can recall that they're not sent out to a crime scene today. McGee sets a quick pace while trying to maintain balance of the the coffees and his homework, but whatever forces are at work this morning, they are hell bent on turning this day upside down before it's really begun. A gust of the unforgiving, Siberian wind picks up, and the case files are unmatched; The papers fly, and are carried through the air along with his loud expletive across the parking lot. The coffees are abandoned, sloshing in his hurry to set them on the asphalt, and McGee is off running to catch what he can of the papers.

Thankfully, it takes him only about five minutes. In that time, he's ended up around the next side the building, and that's where he spots the allusive page seven of the file. It's caught by a conveniently placed shrub, and he slows his pace to a walk in an effort to slow his breathing to normal. He retrieves the paper, and as he goes to turn back to the lot where he'd abandoned the now-chilled coffees, a flash of red catches his eye. Stopping, he does a double take, and spots Ziva's mini cooper several spots down, a few spaces past a dumpster that would effectively block it from view at most angles. Frowning, he stares after it for several moments before a jolt from his pocket indicates an incoming call.

Fishing the offending device out of his pocket with stubbornly cold fingers, he gulps as the screen flashes Gibbs' name. He glances once more at the Red Mini, and brings the phone to his ear, turning his back on the car and setting off at a jog.

"Boss," he begins, but doesn't get anything else out.

"Wanna tell me why my coffee's sitting in the parking lot?"

He pauses.

"Well, I-"

"You're late, McGee." Gibbs grunts, ending the call.

Rolling his eyes heavenward, he takes a deep breath and keeps jogging. The Red Mini all but forgotten, he's reminded when he rounds the building and spots a familiar mass of dark curls blowing in the wind, her small figure drowning in a large parka. He watches as Ziva David bends down to retrieve his coffees, then straighten and walk briskly toward the building's entrance. Exhausted already from his morning paper chase, he slows his jog to a speed walk in an effort to still catch up to her. But instead of walking toward the entrance, she stops next to a car, and DiNozzo suddenly appears beside her. She smiles as he says something to her, and they continue walking together with each step in sync.

He catches up to them finally, and they're laughing when he appears huffing and puffing beside him.

Reaching for the double doors, DiNozzo opens one and shoots the young agent his signature grin.

"McTardy to the party, nice for you to finally arrive."

Ziva shoots her partner a look of disdain as she walks past him into the mercifully heated lobby.

"We are _all_ late," she points out unnecessarily. Turning around, she faces them as McGee walks in next, proffering the coffees to him without any questions or teasing in her eyes.

Ignoring DiNozzo, he offers a gracious, "Thank you," to the Israeli and she nods in kind. They walk toward the security desk and DiNozzo swipes a cup from the carrier in McGee's hands.

"Probie knows I'm only kidding, _Sweetcheeks_." He smirked, eyes glinting with amusement. "Bossman called in back-up when he saw you take off across the parking lot."

McGee groaned and rolled his eyes before handing over his ID for the second time that morning.

"Unfortunately, you were already half way across the yard before we could be of help." Ziva's apologetic voice came from behind him as he moved forward past check-in and towards the elevator. He punches the button, and DiNozzo's just clipping his badge back to it's home on his belt loop when the elevator arrives with a _ding._

Frowning in confusion, McGee turns to them once they've situated themselves in the elevator.

"Why were you both late?"

The duo share a brief look, deciding that Ziva would answer.

"My car has been in the shop all weekend. Tony offered to pick me up today." She says this easily enough, but her eyes stay acutely focused on the elevator wall behind him, never meeting his face.

Recalling the Mini currently parked in the Yard, his brow furrows as his incredulity crosses his features. On his look, Tony elaborates.

"Yeah, had to put her car in the shop friday; you know her, these ninjas and their driving. Who knows what she's knocked around in her engine."

Picking at her nails inattentively as he spoke, which McGee notes as one of her few nervous ticks, Ziva now makes a noise of protest, and the two start arguing without malice. The gears in McGee's head begin turning, and his eyes widen at the implications. The elevator dings, and the doors open to the familiar floor of the bullpen.

"So you haven't had your car since friday?" McGee says slowly, keeping his voice as innocent as he can, while the partner's move around him to exit the elevator.

Ziva and Tony share a loaded glance that would have been too quick to catch for most, but for someone who's had a front seat to their partnership on the cusp of a decade, he caught it easily enough.

He would bet Abby a lifetime of Caf-Pows that Ziva's Mini had been parked here since Friday.

However, Ziva answers otherwise, her back now to him.

"Yes, but I should hopefully have it back by today," she says casually, without a glance behind her. The partners head toward their cluster of desks, shoulder to shoulder, and McGee follows in a daze, awareness dawning on him just as instantly as the migraine beginning to bloom behind his eyes.

He sits behind his desk, watching the dynamic duo talk lowly across the bullpen, and takes a tepid sip of coffee in an effort to assuage the developing migraine. He looks over to Gibbs, who's said nothing while they've made their entrance. He doesn't look up in reprimand, or in suspicion. McGee's gaze flits back to the partners, and he wonders how nothing appears much different about them from the outside looking in.

Quelling what his gut was assuming, he diverts his attention back to his desk to begin rummaging for the bottle of aspirin that's becoming much more frequently used during the week, and plans a trip down to Abby to share the hinky events that have transpired this morning.

_And it's only monday,_ he thinks to himself.


	2. Chapter 2

_And here's the next part; enjoy!_

_There were a lot of people who favorited and added this to their alerts, and i'm happy you enjoyed! _

_But if you have the time, leave a review and let me know how you like it; it makes me feel more confident about updating and writing._

**_jae_**

* * *

February turns out to be as miserable as the weather for Team Gibbs.

If you'd had asked her what the worst time of year was for her team and adopted family, she'd answer summer with no hesitation. It was _always_ summer. Almost a decade of summers filled with death, break-ups, shake-ups, vengeance, and attacks hitting too close to home could attest to this fact.

But as Abby Sciuto sat waiting in her hearse, with the heat on full blast and skull hat, mittens, and scarf bound tight, she was beginning to reconsider thanks to their recent string of misfortune . Call it luck, call it karma; Abby believed in it. But she couldn't rationalize all the tribulation that seemed to be plaguing her team as of late. The past few weeks had been hard on everybody. For one, McGee had taken a beating from a prior suspect charged for narcotics, and had been drugged out when he'd gone to town on McGee without much warning. Fortunately, he'd walked away with only some bruising and a dislocated collarbone, and while physical therapy would be part of his routine for some time, he considered himself lucky.

The week that followed found them facing the unavoidable winter virus epidemic. Tony always succumbed first every year, due to his scarred lungs and past battle with the plague. Only several days had passed when the Senior Agent had come in sick one morning, and sure enough, Tony's virus had traveled to the rest of the team. Gibbs and herself had both fallen ill, and though they'd recovered now, Ziva's immune system had finally surrendered, and she had been out sick the past two days in a row. And if that weren't enough, to top it all off, Tony's virus had developed into pneumonia.

Said Special Agent was the reason she was parked out front of Georgetown Hospital on that cold, gray, Wednesday morning. He'd been admitted the day before when he'd shown up to work looking as though he'd already coughed up one lung, and Gibbs himself had taken him straight to the hospital and given him orders to do as he was told. Consequently, he was forced to stay overnight, and because the team was already down the other half of the dynamic duo, and McGee was in a sling, Gibbs had recruited Abby to retrieve DiNozzo.

Snow had started to fall lightly from the overcast sky, and it had hardly accumulated into a dusting when she spotted Tony making his way across the parking lot, arms wrapped around his torso in an effort to fend off the biting winter air. She frowned when she saw he had on nothing more than his suit jacket, and a reprimand was already falling from her lips as he reached for the door handle.

"Where. Is. Your. _Coat?" _

Tony slides into the passenger seat, already coughing, even while pulling his door closed and buckling his seatbelt. Her face softens as concern overrides irritation, and she hands him a warm to-go cup. He takes it, eying it suspiciously.

"It's just tea," she sighs, while rolling her eyes, "The Nun's special remedy; Top secret."

They stare each other down for several seconds until Tony, prompted by another wave of coughing threatening to rack his body, concedes, and brings the cup to his mouth to sip it delicately. He hums in approval while his eyes slide shut, and Abby smiles in victory. Bringing the cup down to his lap, he settles back in the seat, finally able to address Abby without the threat of a coughing attack.

"I don't know where my good jacket is, it's been missing for a month now," Tony's voice is a rasp and all but non-existent. He finally turns his head in her direction, opening his red and tired eyes. "I must have left it in the charger or something one day." He frowns, pondering the place of his missing jacket, shrugs, and reaches out to crank the radio on.

"Not that i'm ungrateful for the lift," Tony half-whispers as he searches stations, " but why are you on pick-up duty?". He winces when the car jolts as Abby reverses from the curb, and she shifts gears before pulling away and driving towards the hospital's exit.

"Well,_ El Jefe_ is already down you and Ziva," she answers, slowing to a stop and hitting her blinker to turn out of the parking lot, "And he technically doesn't have Timmy, with his sling and everything-"

"What do you mean he's down me _and _Ziva?" Tony interrupts quickly, and that spurs another round of hacking to which Abby's eyes light up in alarm. She reaches over and nudges his tea toward his face with one hand still on the steering wheel.

"Easy, Tony," she chastises, and Tony motions with his hand in a gesture, urging her to continue.

"Ziva's caught whatever all of us had," Abby says slowly, watching him carefully for his reaction. Cluing Tony in to any information regarding Ziva even when the slightest scratch was involved was at the bottom of her list of least favorite things to do. "I thought someone or she had told you, but I guess things have been pretty hectic with you the past two days." She winces internally as she watches Tony's expression slowly form the one he reserves especially for concern regarding Ziva. The light changes to green, and Abby merges forward, preparing to turn right.

"Left!" Tony's gravely voice barks, and she jolts in shock. "Go Left, please."

Abby turns sharply at his direction, bewildered, and he hacks away next to her from straining his voice in such a short period.

"Jeez, DiNozzo!" she exclaims, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "What the hell?"

"Sorry," Tony apologizes, running a hand over his tired face. "Want to go to Ziva's first."

_Of course, _Abby thinks, and tries to calm her irritation. That should have been expected, really.

"Okay," She sighs while mentally mapping out their new destination quickly in her head, and picks up her phone to shove into his lap. "But you might want to give her a heads up. I don't want to find out what happens when you disturb a sick and half conscious ex-Mossad assassin without warning."

Tony's eyebrows shoot upward in acknowledgment, and he palms her phone to send the ninja a text.

It's hard to tell who's feeling worse when Ziva David opens her apartment door. She barely offers them an attempted smile in greeting before Tony is through her door. Abby's left to shut the door while Ziva follows in Tony's wake. They're already in soft discussion as she sets her bag down on the table a few steps from the threshold. She looks up while discarding herself of scarf, mittens, and skull cap, and her face grows warm, suddenly feeling as though she's stepped in on them having an intimate conversation. Abby looks down quickly as Tony brushes a few of Ziva's sweaty curls away from her fevered face, and smirks when she hears Ziva's raspy _I'm fine, Tony._

As they argue over all the reasons the other is not fine, Abby recalls her prior knowledge of the layout of Ziva's house from the handful of times she's visited and makes her way toward the kitchen, on a mission to find some tea and medicine for the duo. As expected, she finds Ziva's tea collection already out, in a basket sitting near the sink and coffee machine. She moves over toward the cabinets there to begin her search of some medicine, thinking internally it's unlikely for Ziva to keep anything remotely close to medical relief in her home. She rolls her eyes at her friends' tendency to bear unnecessary pain, and looks around the kitchen. Her eyes gloss over the contents of the room; there's several bills stacked neatly by a plant and her house phone, a notepad with an untidy, familiar scrawl written with a brief message and a number, coupons and a worn carry out menu from a deli she knows is near Tony's apartment, and as her eyes travel from that back to where the coffee machine rests, they narrow in suspicion at the coffee selections Ziva has lined up near the machine. A basic blend that looks untouched and that she knows Gibbs to be a fan of, a bag in a language she wouldn't be comfortable hazarding a guess at from first glance, and finally a near empty bag of the brand Tony favors - he keeps the same kind in the NCIS break room. Her eyes wander around the kitchen again, and Abby's internal hinky signal is sending out an alarm. But before she can investigate further, Ziva enters the room.

"What are you doing?" she asks, not unkindly.

Grabbing a few bags of tea from the basket, she turns around and holds them up.

"Tea," Abby answers brightly. "You guys need tea."

Ziva gives her a weak smile and wraps her arms around her torso tightly, fighting off a shiver.

"Tea is the cure for anything," she agrees, and moves past her to a cabinet, opening it to reveal where she stores her mugs. She grabs two, and it doesn't escape Abby's notice that one of the mugs Ziva pulls out is one she herself has sipped out of several times in Tony's own apartment. Abby says nothing, but wanders toward the waiting kettle on the stove.

"I can take care of this, Abby," she pauses and regards Ziva, who holds up the two mugs in confirmation. "I was just about to pour myself some tea, so the water is hot." Abby nods, handing her the packets of tea. Ziva takes them gratefully, and tilts her head toward the other direction. "Would you mind grabbing some extra blankets for Tony? There should be some fresh ones folded in the laundry room; I put him in my bedroom." Ziva's voice is nonchalant, but she avoids Abby's searching gaze and concentrates on making the tea. Abby gives her one final glance, then nods in confirmation.

"Aye, aye, captain." She salutes, and wanders out into the hall. The hinky feeling in her gut grows as she wanders through the expanse of Ziva's apartment. Because whether the two are simply so sick they aren't aware of it, or if they think nobody could notice it, evidence of Tony is glaringly obvious through out Ziva's home; The DVDs stacked by her television, the two coasters waiting on the coffee table, and several CDs sit out by an unostentatious CD player; a few titles catching her eye labeled Sinatra, Steely Dan, and Justin Vernon - artists she'd bet money on Ziva wasn't very familiar with.

Abby feels her face warm in discomfort as she sees more and more of this; This irrefutable evidence that the partner's have, for some time, been more than the professional co-workers and friends she sees each day. She feels as though she's stumbled onto a secret she should very much not know about, and she can't help the feeling of hurt the bubbles in her stomach from the fact that two of her friends, her _family_, are keeping something so huge, so life-changing, from them all. And now, she's tangled in their secret while they remain unaware.

She's rushing to the laundry room now, trying to avoid noticing anything more that would give confirmation to the conclusion she's drawing. The blankets lay in a stack upon the dryer, and she quickly enters to grab them and take them to Tony. Turning back out of the room is when Abby notices not just several coats hanging up, but _Tony's coat. _ Now, hurt turns into anger; as sensitive as she is, she can't help feeling lied to. She frees a hand from under the blankets, and grabs his coat angrily, prepared to confront the two about the other. Because the fact that the two of them are together, and hiding it from the closest thing they have to family? Feels similar to deceit. And if there's one thing Abby hates, it's secrets.

Making her way towards the bedroom, she pauses when she doesn't hear any activity. Frowning in confusion, she peers into the bedroom, and just as quickly as the anger flared before, it cools when her eyes fall upon the scene before her.

The partners are both indeed there, and very much asleep. Two still-steaming mugs sit on Ziva's night table, and Tony is snoring lightly, buried under several blankets and Ziva herself. She's curled up into his side, as if she had only meant to rest for a moment, with a hand clutching several tissues resting on his chest. She's anchored to Tony's side by his hand that grips her hip with too much familiarity and quite too intimately. Abby stares at them for some time, feeling the fight leave her and the hurt dissipate. She pads over to the bed quietly, and carefully unfolds a blanket to cover Ziva, dropping the rest of the pile on the floor near the bed. Reaching over to turn the lamp on the night table off, she backs quietly out of the bedroom, shutting the door softly.

She makes her way down the hall and back to the door, and places Tony's coat she still clutches atop of the table, exchanging it for her discarded outerwear. She pulls on everything one by one, and sends a quick text to Gibbs to let him know DiNozzo is safe and sound and _home_. Because it's clear to Abby that _home _is with Ziva, here, in this little world they're trying to build and navigate for themselves. And Abby, though grudgingly, understands that all they need is a little time. She understands they need to be sure themselves before they can share with the team. And Abby's confident the two can, and will, figure out how.

So she turns out the hall light, and folds Tony's coat one last time, leaving it there for him to find whenever he wakes. Abby smiles to herself, happy now for the day that will come where it won't be a matter of _if_ they'll figure it out, but _when_ they are ready to share their secret.

For now, their secret is safe with her.


	3. Chapter 3

_Ducky Mallard, you are one tough bastard to write. But this is dedicated to you - you shined in tonight's episode. _

_This was going to be immediate team only, but what would you think about one from Fornell's perspective?_

_Leave your thoughts, I appreciate hearing what you are all thinking!_

_**jae**_

* * *

Though he's well known for not allowing silence to settle, or to be one to let a conversation lag, Doctor Donald Mallard is quite able and willing to revel in the comfortable quiet of an empty Autopsy Lab. He was still working on their previous cases' final autopsy report when the MCRT had been called out earlier in the afternoon. Electing to stay back and finish his report, he had sent Jimmy Palmer solo, much to the surprise of the young man, but Ducky was confident that the he was more than able to examine the body of the naval officer on his own. Jimmy had come a long way in the past several years - more so during his absence while he was on sabbatical, recovering from his heart attack. And so Dr. Mallard had sent him off with a smile and wave of his hand, assuring him he was well equipped to handle the job on his own. He looked forward to a quiet afternoon to read over his work carefully, and additionally , it would allow him to finish his report just early enough to enjoy his weekly luncheon with Ziva. She herself had come to collect Jimmy, reassuring the older Doctor that they didn't anticipate being out in the field long, and promising with a smile that she would be back in time for tea and to share their lunch hour.

Their tea time had began and evolved with their relationship. The year Ziva David had sauntered into NCIS, and in effect, their lives indefinitely, the young Officer and older Doctor had taken to one another quite effortlessly. Bonding over their shared circumstances of knowing more than one home apart from America, they came together to swap stories and experiences, and to find comfort in their home away from home. Tea had been what brought them together that first afternoon, and so it became an integral part of their time together. They spent these afternoons conversing about anything and everything, though there were several topics Ziva would never broach; The circumstances that lead to her liaison with NCIS, the origin of her mother, and anything regarding her relationship with her partner that wasn't strictly work related. Though these tea times had occurred considerably more regularly than irregularly in the years they had known one another, they had increased in frequency; Until finally evolving into a weekly routine upon Ziva's return from Somalia, those three summers ago. While the team had embraced her with open arms and hearts, Ziva had been damaged far beyond what their compassion alone could mend. Ducky, who'd been the one trusted with Ziva's medical records and tasked to evaluate her, understood all too well the demons she'd be battling on her road to recovery. He knew not just the physical ramifications of that summer in Somalia, but the emotional and mental scarring she would suffer. Ducky had feared that first week that someone such as Ziva, as tough and defensive as she could be, but equally was just as much sensitive, would completely shut down upon being so completely vulnerable. But much to his relief, Ziva had seemed to have accepted the responsibility that he'd been given, and her trust in the Doctor had only strengthened, rather than crumble and weaken.

Shaking out the cramp that was beginning to form after nearly two hours of writing and finalizing his notes, Ducky sat back with a content sigh and glanced up at the clock above his desk. He was just wondering when to anticipate Ziva's arrival when the Israeli herself appeared. Ducky looked over as the familiar sound of the door alert and the _woosh_ of the automatic doors echoed through the lab, and Ziva hobbled in, still donned in her field windbreaker. Clutching herself around her torso, she greets him with a weak smile while Ducky, oblivious, gets up and begins shuffling his papers into organized piles on his desk.

"Ziva, my dear," he greets her, his voice surprised. "I was just beginning to wonder when to expect you back. I'll need only a couple minutes to put away my work." With his back turned, she continues to hobble into the lab as he talks, focus still on the stacks of paper on his desk. She stops at the nearest autopsy table, grimacing as she leans her weight against the cool, metal slab.

"Actually Ducky, I think I may need to take a rain-check," Ziva replies, before hissing in pain as she tries to shrug off her windbreaker, but unsuccessfully. Ducky finally turns to face her formally, and his eyes widen in concern.

"My dear, what happened?" He paces over, and she drops her arm, hoping to quell the concern radiating from him. But the sharp pain that's been persisting for the better half of the last hour doubles without the applied pressure, and her face pinches in pain before she can cover it. Ziva opens her mouth to explain, but is interrupted by the arrival of her partner; Careening into the lab without grace, almost before the door slide away to allow him entrance.

"There you are!" The irritation in his tone compliments the exasperation on Tony DiNozzo's face, and he brings the phone dangling in his hands up to his ear as he strides toward them. Ducky looks between them, perplexed as Ziva's eyes roll heavenwards.

"Found her, boss. You were right." Tony halts when he's less than an arm's breath from Ziva, ending his call, then struggling to pocket it inside his own windbreaker's pocket. Finally shoving it in successfully, he rounds on his partner.

"Ziva, you need to go to the emergency room, not Ducky's lab." He groans, irritated, while Ducky moves between the two, ignoring them and pushing Ziva into a sitting position on top of the cool table, and he begins prodding gently where Ziva still clutches her ribs. In between winces, she shoots Tony a look that promises a snark response. Tony is saved from the impending verbal smack-down, however, when Ducky has the sense to interrupt them there.

"Would either of you care to tell me what transpired?"

Ziva shoots the Doctor an apologetic look.

"I had a bit of a run-down at the crime scene earlier, Ducky -"

"Run-in, Ziva." Tony interrupts, correcting her absently, "Turns out our now prime suspect stuck around the crime scene - decided to pick out Ziva to take down while our backs were turned." Tony shakes his head at their suspects' misjudgment. "Didn't realize he picked out the only ex-assassin in the group. Luckily, he only got as far as tackling her down the hill." Ducky imitates Tony, shaking his head solemnly.

"Poor fellow," Though his tone is devoid of any sympathy. Keeping a hand pressed into her rib, he looks up at Ziva. "Please tell me you did a number on him?"

Tony's face lights up.

"Yeah she did," his voice animated, "several numbers in fact, you should go see what's left of him in interrogation - " Ziva isn't prepared for Ducky's sharp prod into what she now assumes is definitely a fractured rib, and can't stop the mangled cry that comes out of her mouth. Tony cuts off, looking at her with renewed concerned, and her hand unconsciously grasps and tightens around the hand half extended toward her.

Ducky winces in apology.

"Sorry, my dear." He says, dropping his hand and stepping back. She shakes her head at him, dismissing his remorse, though her grasp remains tight on Tony's hand, knuckles white. Her partner doesn't seem concerned for his circulation, though, for his attention is rapt on Ziva's pained expression.

The doctor regards her regretfully.

"It appears you may have fractured a rib, Ziva." He tells her, tone business-like, "The best I can do for you is wrap them and send you away with a few strong painkillers, if that's what you'd prefer to do." She nods quickly.

"I would rather you take care of it," her voice remains even, but he hears the real double meaning in her tone. Ziva's entire medical history had been exposed to him, and while she had reached the point where she was comfortable with her body and the past scars that lingered, she still remained unwilling to be exposed to others that were unfamiliar with her history. He gives her a knowing look over his glasses as his suspicions for why she came here first are confirmed.

"That is fine, I have the material to wrap them here." She nods, biting her lip, before her fingers unclench from around her partner's and begin moving toward her jacket's zipper. Ducky turns around, in search of the medical wrap he will need, and Tony steps in front of Ziva, shooing her hands away at her feeble efforts of shrugging out of her jacket.

She makes an affronted noise, glaring at him reproachfully, and battles with his hands. Tony grabs her hands before she can do much damage, and returns her glare.

"Hey," his tone sharp, but he quickly drops his voice lower as Ducky glances around at the outburst. He smooths his thumbs over her palm to calm her, and her face softens. "Let me help?" he murmurs, looking down at her, eyes searching her face for permission this time.

Surrendering, Ziva nods, and he goes back to peeling off her jacket with careful hands. Ducky pauses, and it doesn't escape his notice that Tony's hands run down her arms a little _too_ slowly, linger a little _too_ long. He turns back to the drawer he's searching through when Ziva looks up, flushing red at Tony's smile.

Tony's grin lingers as the Doctor's back is turned. Her blush deepens as the fingers ghosting down her arm leave a trail of goosebumps, and she swats his hand away playfully when she hears Ducky shuffling back over to them.

Looking between them, he tries to think of the most delicate way to avoid any discomfort on Ziva's part. Ducky looks at her, holding up the bandaging, motioning that he's going to need her to...

"Okay, ninja," Tony says, and then grasps the hem of her blouse, freeing the shirt from pants, and begins to undo the buttons slowly. Ducky's eyebrows raise in surprise, but he says nothing. He looks to Ziva to see if she's okay with the invasion of space, but her face looks as calm as he's seen it. Tony frees the last button, pushing the shirt off her shoulders carefully, and helps her to rise and stand before him. Ducky observes the two, and is further surprised when she allows Tony to twirl her, having her back to both of the men, and notes the monumental amount of trust it must take her to do so.

And as Tony's gaze falls on the expanse of his partner's exposed back, Ducky waits anxiously, ready to cover whatever reaction Tony may have. But without batting an eye, DiNozzo reaches for the bandage wrap with a quick, "Thanks, Duck," and unravels it to wind around Ziva's abdomen, taking charge of bandaging his partner. Ziva remains still, her face betraying nothing except slight discomfort from the pain in her ribs. The older Doctor wonders how calm she is under the surface, for she must be aware of the way Tony's free hand, which grasps her so sure and steady, ghosts over the faded, yet notable jagged scars that mar the olive, golden surface of her skin. Tony pays no mind as his hand travels higher, over a particularly nasty one that Ducky himself picked the embedded glass from, except to trace it lightly before moving his hand to her shoulder. Finishing, he clips the bandage and straightens, hand still resting lightly on her shoulder.

"Easy, lion." He grins at her when she turns quickly to face him.

Her hand comes to rest against her rib cage to prod gently at the bandage around her abdomen.

"I think you mean tiger," Ziva smirks, raising her eyes to meet his, satisfied as the pain in her ribs dull.

Not knowing what to make of the exchange, but knowing a migraine would be likely to occur if he gave it much thought, Ducky wandered over to a cabinet to retrieve the pain killers he had promised her. It takes him only a second to find the pill bottle, before turning back around to the pair. He's shaking several pills free into the palm of his hand as Tony helps a now shivering Ziva redress, and thinks to himself how he's impressed that Tony has refrained from uttering a single remark about her being exposed and shirtless.

"I am sorry for the chill," Ducky chuckles, coming to stand beside the duo once more. Tony laughs, straightening her blouse as he zips her windbreaker over it and all the way up to her chin.

"Seven years, and she's still not used to a little cool climate," he teases. Ignoring him, Ziva takes the medication Ducky proffers to her.

"Here you are, Ziva." Ducky tells her and reaches out to grasp her hand, dropping the pills into her palm and closing her fingers around them with a gentle pat. She smiles in gratitude, and he looks between both of them, assuring their attention.

"You know the drill, do not take them if you are about to drive. Or in Anthony's case, if you are near any phone or have any access to communication with other persons." He looks knowingly at Tony, and the agent in question's face is laden with exasperation. Ducky continues, "And have somebody around or checking in on you if you take more than one for the pain. I am afraid that's all I will be able to do for you."

Ziva smiles and gently pats Ducky's cheek.

"This was more than enough. Thank you, Ducky. And I promise we will reschedule our lunch." Tony's face snaps up from where he was checking his phone, looking at his partner with interest.

Before he can question her, Ziva grabs his phone out of his grasp and begins swiping across the screen.

"Hey!" Tony exclaims indignant.

"I am ordering you a pizza since you will be driving me home. I am hungry and I cannot wait to drive home to also take this medication," she explains calmly without looking up, and Ducky smiles in amusement. "Shall I order our usual pizza?"

Her use of pronouns do not escape the Doctor's notice. A soft smile sneaks across Tony's face as he looks at his partner, and Ducky wonders if either of the two realizes how much affection is in that simple reaction of his she instils.

He doesn't wonder long as they turn to leave in sync; Tony's arm wrapped casually around her side, helping her walk toward the elevator.

He knows the both of them have figured it out.

It wouldn't have taken a doctor of his expertise to see it either, as he turns out the lights and grabs his coat. He thinks about what he just witnessed, and how the two behaved so casually it was so blatantly _not_ casual.

Because those scars that cover , cross, and blend together all over Ziva's back would have shocked even a man with a poker face akin to Gibbs. And the way Tony DiNozzo handled himself was not in the way of a man who had never been exposed to them.

He handled it with familiarity.

He had seen them before, and often.

The gazes, the touches, and banter; All the heaviness lingered in a haze throughout the autopsy lab.

With one last look around the room, Doctor Mallard reached the door, waiting for it to slide open.

_About time_, is his last thought before he puts on his hat, and tightening his coat around his body as he heads toward the exit.


	4. Chapter 4

_Thank you for all of your feedback! I'm glad you're enjoying, and I love to hear what you have to say._

_Not my favorite, but it's hard to work with a character like him. _

**_jae_**

* * *

Afternoon is fading into early evening as the weekend finally draws to a close in the MCRT squad room.

The quiet hum that's fallen upon the bullpen for the last hour or so is uncharacteristic for a Friday at NCIS, but not unwelcomed; Though Jimmy Palmer doesn't usually find himself above ground in the hustle and bustle of the bullpen, it had been more than busy enough down below the floor the past few days, and even if the team was in the midst of a case, it'd still be a welcomed reprieve from autopsy that week. It's been a mercifully slow Friday after the hectic week of four autopsies and a case that took a turn on Tuesday, and they'd finally wrapped the case up in time for the weekend. Doctor Mallard had dismissed him early, for he preferred to finalize the paperwork in peace and quiet, and Jimmy was all but willing to pack up early. Unfortunately, he hadn't foreseen the day ending quite so soon, and that was how he found himself still at NCIS around eighteen hundred.; carless, in the bullpen, and reclined at Anthony DiNozzo's desk.

"_Jimmy_, if you're not doing anything, you could at least help me decorate Ziva's desk."

Jimmy looks up from the rubik's cube he'd uncovered in the depths of the only unlocked drawer of Tony's desk. He finds Abby narrowing her eyes in his direction, succeeding in looking intimidating even as she holds up a brightly colored banner.

Jimmy glances over in Timothy McGee's direction, and finds the young Agent had surfaced from the file work he'd spend the better half of the hour engrossed in. McGee simply shrugs in his direction, and points at the piles of folders in front of him.

"Or you could work on some of the paperwork for me. It's bad enough I have to do Ziva's share, but Tony's?"

Palmer grimaces, and takes less than a second to decide the lesser of two evils.

"I think I'd be more useful helping Abby color."

Abby smiles in victory, and trots over to where Jimmy sits at Tony's desk with a handful of multi-colored markers.

"Make them extra colorful, Jimmy. Ziva's been gone a whole week!"

Jimmy nods dutifully, selecting a purple marker from the pile and setting to work.

Abby shoots McGee an apologetic smile, and the Agent sighs heavily, putting down his pen in favor of the last half of his Nutter Butter he'd been saving. He sits back, determining that he's earned a well deserved ten minute break, and crunches on the first, delicious bite thoughtfully.

"Jimmy, why'd you say DiNozzo has your car again?" He asked, voice muffled over a mouthful of candy.

Jimmy's hand jerks, and he mutters under his breath at the now squiggly purple bat he'd been trying to imitate from Abby's sketch. He puts down the marker, frowning as he thought back to when Tony bombarded him earlier as he stepped out for his lunch break.

"He said something about his Mustang being too small. He had to run an errand and needed more room." He shrugs, seeming to find this unsuspicious. He'd consulted with DiNozzo before purchasing his and Breena's newest car; The Pilot they'd bought definitely had more space than the Tony's mustang. "He should be back soon though." Looking back down at his artistic blunder, Jimmy moves his attention to the locked drawer, jiggling it in the chance that it would decide to unlock itself, hoping to find some white-out.

McGee frowns while he watches Jimmy, annoyance for the Senior Agent pulling at eyebrows, making his forehead wrinkle.

"What is he even doing? If he's not back by nineteen hundred, I'm leaving. I'll be late for dinner with Charlie." He mumbles out the last part, and he watches Abby's expression darken momentarily while she pull the banner out from under Jimmy.

Of course, the sudden tension goes unnoticed by Palmer.

"Oh!" He exclaims, surprised, and seizes his assault on Tony's drawer. "Charlie Harris from Intelligence?"

McGee nods, casting a hesitant glance in Abby's direction. She pushes down fiercely with her red marker as though it's offended her deeply, and makes several quick slashes over Jimmy's marker faux pas.

"Doesn't Agent _Harris_ have a flight to Kuwait she needs to be on this weekend?

Jimmy raises his eyebrows at her hostility, and exchanges a perplexed look with McGee, who just frowns and shakes his head. They all knew Abby wasn't a big fan of outsiders.

"Yes, tomorrow." McGee says cautiously. "I'm driving her to the airport."

Jimmy brightens, and he looks between the two.

"Well that's nice of you!"

Abby sets her marker down with excessive force.

"I didn't realize you guys were getting so _serious_. You're already driving her to the airport?" She doesn't look toward him as she gets up, walking over to Ziva's desk to tape the last banner up. Jimmy watches her, frowning, and turns to look at McGee.

"How come you haven't mentioned her?" He asks, capping the marker in his hand before setting it down for the half finished rubik's cube.

"Mentioned who?"

The slightly accented voice causes all three of them to look up to find Ziva, standing by the partition to the bullpen, with a smile on her face as her eyes fall on her desk. She gives them a quick wave at their chorus of surprise before Abby bounds over to wrap her in a tight hug.

"Ziva! You're back!" Ziva's eyebrows shoot up as Abby bounces her up and down. She pulls back with her hands still gripping the Israeli's arms, and scrutinizes her up and down.

"You're back _early_," her eyes narrow suspiciously. "What are you doing here?"

Ziva merely shrugs, brushing her hair out of her eyes and pats her friend's arm graciously.

"I was not at the airport long, thankfully." She rolls her eyes, "I did not have to deal with hailing down a cab. And I am here because I forgot my keys here when I left Monday." Ziva walks around Abby, her eyes sweeping over her desk once again, and a smile pulls at her lips.

"I hope this means you all were not so busy in my absence?" She motions to all the colorful banners.

McGee laughs humorously, and indicates to the files before him.

"Define busy. DiNozzo's abandoned ship, as well as his paperwork." Ziva frowns at McGee as he fills her in, and his eyes find Tony's desk where Jimmy still sits. "I have to go soon, and I don't know where he ran off to."

He pipes up then, sweeping his hand above Tony's desk.

"I can just tell Tony you had to go, I'm going to have to wait for him anyway if I want to drive home." He laughs, "Besides, you don't want to be late for Charlie. I know Breena would be upset if she were her."

Jimmy watches as Ziva looks toward McGee, pointing to him with excitement.

"You are still seeing her? I did not know this was so serious!"

Abby looks at her friend as if she's betrayed her, and Jimmy gives Ziva a shake of his head in warning from behind Abby's back.

"He's taking her to the _airport_ tomorrow." Abby stresses, as if this confirmed how serious it was, and Ziva shoots Jimmy a puzzled expression - the look on her face not atypical to the look she gets when she needs clarification.

"Does that mean something specific?" Ziva looks around at them, and Jimmy shrugs.

"_Ziva_," Abby sighs, with the air of explaining something very complicated to a young child, "That means it's totally serious. You don't drive just anybody to and from the airport. That's like, serious relationship or immediate family status. Especially with traffic - have you even _seen_ D.C and Baltimore traffic before?"

Ziva stares blankly at her, as if she doesn't even consider something as trivial as rush hour traffic.

"I drive around the people who get in my way." She says impassively, and starts looking around her desk for her missing keys. Jimmy laughs appreciatively, but quickly sobers when Abby shoots him a glare.

Clearing his throat and becoming serious under The Goth's gaze, he hastens to agree.

"Abby has a point, I think. It's a serious gesture." He looks back over at McGee, apologetic. "Actually, I think I told Breena I loved her before I even took her to the airport for one of her trips." McGee flushes crimson at the insinuation, and Jimmy quickly goes back to his rubik's cube, trying to keep his mouth shut before he makes another comment. Personally, he does agree, but he doesn't want to make McGee more uncomfortable.

Abby smiles superiorly, and turns on her friend, who was now holding her keys and jacket.

"I told you." She smiles wickedly, and turns toward her friend. Abby's expression shifts, looking her up and down. "Who picked _you_ up from the airport, Ziva?"

A faint blush spreads across her surprised face, and she looks like she's been hit with a sudden smack of awareness. She's saved from answering, however, when the ding of the elevators precede the arrival of a certain Special Agent.

"Finally!" McGee exclaims, and begins stacking the files on his desk in a rush. Abby has already rushed to Tony's side, and so nobody but Jimmy notices how Ziva's blush deepens as her partner enters the bullpen. He continues to watch her as she collects her things, a curtain of hair falling to hide her face as she does so, and doesn't realize Tony's beside him at his desk until he hears the Agent clear his throat.

Jimmy fumbles, backing the chair up hastily as he drops the rubik's cube and looks up.

"Comfortable, Palmer?" Tony asks, looking down at him with eyebrows raised.

He fixes his glasses nervously, and hastily gets up to allow the Agent access to his desk.

"Just keeping it warm for you." He laughs nervously, and moves out of the way just as McGee approaches Tony's desk.

"Here you are," He drops a stack of folders onto the desktop with a loud thud. "I couldn't get to them all, what with you being gone the whole day."

Tony gives him his most charming smile as McGee hikes his backpack further onto his shoulder.

"I can assure you, it was very Special Agent business."

McGee rolls his eyes, and walks toward the partition of the bullpen where Abby stands waiting for him.

"I hope it was important."

Jimmy observes the exchange, and watches as Tony's gaze travels across the bullpen to his partner.

"I can assure you, it was." He says, and the smirk in his voice is unmistakable.

"Whatever you say, DiNozzo." McGee says over his shoulder, and turns to bid the rest of them a final goodbye.

"Have a good weekend, everybody." He waves, turning to Ziva. "Good to have you back, Ziva."

Ziva winks, nodding her head over toward Tony.

"I would not leave you alone with him for long, Tim."

Tony gives her a wounded look as they all laugh, and Abby comes over to Ziva quickly and gives her a final hug.

"Do you need any help with your bags? I know you had a lot before you left Monday." She asks once she's let go of the Israeli.

Ziva shakes her head, cheeks still tinged pink as her glance flits brielfy over toward her partner.

"Thank you, but no. They are taken care of." Her partner smiles softly at her from behind The Goth's back, and her gaze returns back to Abby, giving her a wink. Abby salutes, returning to Tim's side, and they begin to walk away. She glances back over her shoulder as she approaches the elevator, looking for Jimmy.

"You comin', Jimmy?"

"Oh," He exclaims, "Yes. Just a second!" He looks around frantically, and he finds DiNozzo already holding out his work bag toward him. He grabs it, and watches as Tony reaches into his pockets, liberating his car keys and tossing them into the air for him to catch.

"Thanks!" Jimmy tells him, and Tony sits back down in his seat.

"Thank _you_," he insists, eying the keys meaningfully, and motions with his eyes toward the elevator. "Better hurry up, Palmer."

Jimmy gives him a goofy smile as he turns to leave, and nods between him and Ziva, the only ones now left in the bullpen.

"Have a good weekend, guys!" He smiles, "And welcome back, Ziva."

She returns his smile, nodding.

"Thank you, Jimmy."

He turns around then, leaving the duo as he rushes to make the elevator just before the doors slide shut.

It's not until he's in the parking lot, after parting with McGee and Abby, that he spares a thought as to how Ziva expected to get home, and wonders if he should have offered her a ride. He's pretty sure her apartment is in his direction, anyway. He finds his car parked where he'd parked it earlier that day, Tony having left it in the same spot. Getting in, he settles into the driver's seat, and moves to pull out his phone, thinking that maybe he should at least text Ziva and offer her a ride. Extracting his cell phone from his pocket proves to be a difficult task, however, and his phone ends up flying, slipping over the console and falling between it and the passenger seat; The land of no return.

Groaning, he tries to stretch his hand as far as can to reach the offending device, and succeeds in retrieving it some few minutes later. As he pulls his hand out, he feels it graze something else.

He finds his phone, and in addition, a folded sheet of paper that's slightly crumpled and marked with print.

Unfolding it, he finds immediately that it's a copy of a flight confirmation for none other than Ziva David. He adjusts his glasses, and recognizes Tony's untidy scrawl written on the paper as well, where he'd written out a time and gate number hastily.

Jimmy looks at the ticket thoughtfully, and his mind travels back to the conversation in the bullpen, as well as the woman in question's behavior.

He remembers the faint tinge that stained her cheeks during their conversation, and realizes she never did give Abby an answer.

He smiles down at the ticket, and puts his phone back into his pocket.

Ziva won't be needing his chivalry.

Tony DiNozzo will see to that.

With one last look behind him at the building, he backs up slowly, and begins making his way toward the Navy Yard's exit.

It appears the two partners were more serious than people were aware of.

He may not be a Special Agent, or sworn to protect secrets quite like the ones Tony and Ziva do. But after the scrutiny McGee had been under tonight, it made him more determined to watch out for Tony's and Ziva's backs.

He crumples up the ticket, effectively crumpling up the evidence of their secret with it. He would keep it to himself. For who would he really tell?

The people in autopsy, after all, never talked much anyway.


End file.
